


how people move

by adoremark



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Internal Monologue, Introspection, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, POV Iwaizumi Hajime, Post-Time Skip, Slice of Life, could be read as platonic also???, wow i use those tags a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28377654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoremark/pseuds/adoremark
Summary: Hajime sees Tooru in the little bits of his routine.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Kudos: 23





	how people move

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by the song, "still with you" by jungkook!! it'd be nice if you could give it a listen while reading this :)

Hajime isn’t one for being sentimental. He’s always taken things as is, the first part of his name, _Iwa_ , meaning _rock_. Meaning steady and unmoving, a restraint of austerity. Meaning ordinary in the face of those remarkable. Hajime was sure that no matter what, he'd keep plodding along the world’s rotation. It catches him off guard, these small moments that have no consideration for his routine, so he stops and notes.

It is at a nameless ramen stand in Tokyo, that Hajime finds himself sinking into memories he didn’t deem important before. This ramen is nothing like the one from home. The broth is bland and he can tell that it hasn’t been simmered long enough to compare to the rich bone broth that Miyagi boasts. Black pepper prickles in the back of this throat and he coughs. Despite these lacking differences, Hajime is warm. Heat from the bowl soothes his cold hands. He tips the bowl back and finishes off the remnants before ordering another.

This time, he orders shoyu ramen, Tooru’s favorite. Hajime remembers how after volleyball practice, Tooru never failed to order a custom bowl with slightly overcooked noodles and an extra soft boiled egg. Hajime used to think the shoyu broth was too salty for his tastes, but these days he finds himself not minding as much. The ramen is steaming when the waiter places it down in front of him. Hajime snaps a picture and sends it to Tooru. He won’t see it until later, it being the middle of the night in Argentina right now. Hajime picks up his chopsticks and starts digging in. 

* * *

**Tooru (11:46am)**

STOP TEMPTING ME IWA-CHAN

**Tooru (11:47am)**

even the extra egg on top...

**Tooru (11:48am)**

that looks so good T__T i haven’t had proper ramen in so long

**Tooru (12:01pm)**

im taking this as a promise to treat me later!!! ;)

  
  


* * *

The court has always been a constant in Hajime’s eyes. Now, instead of playing, he is on the sidelines, overseeing the team that would represent Japan in the upcoming Olympics. Shoes skidding against wooden floors ring through the room and the players bellow shouts of encouragement as they make passes. Hajime watches as they bounce the ball up and down, spinning it in their hands, before hitting a serve. He passes out towels and water bottles, throwing back the occasional ball that comes flying towards him, and it’s this sensation that makes him itch to step onto the court. 

Nothing can compare to being immersed in the game as a player. How he would dart his eyes back and forth between the ball and his opponents, trying to catch the faintest flicker of movements. How through the white lights, Hajime could almost feel the heat of the crowd looking down at him. How his muscles would burn as he launched himself above the net and how Tooru would lock eyes with him as he set the ball to Hajime’s path. And the resounding smack that stung his palm when he spiked the ball to the ground. 

Blood would roar through his ears like crashing waves as Hajime makes out the blaze in Tooru’s eyes. He still sees it, Tooru’s fiery eyes as he heaves for breath during his televised matches. Hajime can only think that he wants to see it again and again. 

* * *

His apartment is quiet besides the low pitched humming of the air conditioner. Hajime lays in his twin bed, properly tucked in with his hands on his stomach. He squints through the darkness and cranes his neck towards the window. The moon casts slivers of light onto his blankets. 

Tooru used to sneak over all the time like this, out of boredom or necessity. Either way, Hajime yielded every time. Sometimes he would come over the night before a match. He would come with his overstuffed bag, filled with hair products that he claimed Hajime didn’t have, and make the pull out futon his home. On occasion, Hajime was too lazy to take out the futon, so he had no right to complain about how small the bed was. 

It was easy to handle Tooru when he was loud. And that was most times. Hajime didn’t know what to do when Tooru laid next to him, submerged in a pensive silence that grated at his nerves. So Hajime would point out the moon or the stars, not that he had anything to say about them, but for Tooru to latch on. He probably saw right through Hajime’s attempt, but chose to indulge him. 

And so Hajime would listen while Tooru rambled about different constellations and a news article he read about some recent space study. If he had known, he would’ve put more effort into remembering those moments. Still, his aversion to the quiet never went away. Trust Tooru to curse him with uneasiness at a moment’s peace. 

Hajime sighs and rolls over to grab his phone off the nightstand. 

* * *

**To Tooru** **(1:45am)**

The moon is bright tonight. 

  
  


* * *

The airport is busy in the morning. People dragging luggage blur by as the crowds amass. It smells like corporate coffee and the specific clinical scent that public spaces have. Hajime leans against the wall, staring down at his phone. 

**To Tooru (6:54am)**

I’m waiting by the terminal gates. Text me when you land.

The Summer Olympics were in two weeks. Tooru had decided to come to Japan on his own, a couple days earlier than the rest of his teammates. And for those couple days, Tooru would be staying in Hajime’s apartment. 

It had been a while since they’d last seen each other. They were both busy with preparations for the Olympics so Hajime would be lying if he said that he didn’t miss Tooru. To go from seeing each other daily, being together almost the entire day, to being on separate sides of the world, inconvenienced by time zones. 

Hajime unpockets his phone when it lets out a ping. 

**Tooru** **(7:23am)**

i just landed :)

**Tooru (7:25am)**

IM COMING

Hajime chuckles as he moves closer to the gates. He waits a couple minutes, foot tapping restlessly, until Tooru emerges from the gates, wheeling his luggage towards Hajime with a beaming grin. Tooru embraces him with such a force that it causes him to stumble back a few steps. Hajime just laughs and hugs him back.

“Missed you,” Tooru says, voice muffled in his shoulder. 

Hajime strokes his hair with a huff. “Me too,” he murmurs. 

Tooru pulls away, yanking his luggage along as they exit the airport. Hajime leads him to his car, gripping the steering wheel with a glance towards him. 

“First thing on the agenda is treating me to a nice, hot bowl of ramen!” Tooru chirps. 

“And when did you decide that on your own?”

“What do you mean, you promised me!”

Hajime raises a brow. “Did I now?”

“Is that any way to treat your guest?”

Hajime tilts to his side, covering his smile with a hand. He supposed it was nice, moments like these, where he would remember later unexpectedly. 

“Alright,” he says with a smile. “If that’s what gets you to shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh this was very short bc i wrote this on a whim! as always, thank you for reading and you can find me on my [twt](https://twitter.com/markbffs)


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